I suppose now is a good of a time as any for me to rebirth my blog.

I’ve lived in Denver for three years now, and in that three years I’ve learned a lot about who I am, who I want to be and who I’m not. Today I’ve learned something else.

I’ve learned how to be afraid.

Last night I read that 20 people had been injured in a movie theater in a town not far from where I live. This morning I learned that 12 people had been killed and many more had been injured. It felt like something you would see in a movie or read in a book. I couldn’t help but associate the feeling with one of going to sleep in one reality and waking up in another.

Where does it come from? This need to cause chaos. Was the gunman wanting an escape from his life, his reality? Did he find solace and comfort in thinking  (not pretending, but thinking) that he was a character from the Batman universe? I perfectly understand the desire to want to be in a world of the fantastic, where ordinary humans don a cape, cowl and utility belt and become a guardian, a symbol, an icon. One of the ways I realized I wanted to be a writer was my active imagination and my natural curiosity.

Again, I ask, where does it come from?

My need to write comes from a need to understand the world I live in and the thoughts I have in my head. My need to write fantasy and fiction is an effort to keep a grip on my sanity. If I don’t get it out, I might go insane. Writing is therapeutic for me and creativity if my drug of choice. I do like to explore the mind of the villain, but does that make me a villain myself in a roundabout way?  Do I write in an effort to garner attention, to cement myself and my work in a history that will live on long after my bones have cracked and decayed? Does a villain not do the same? The shooter will live on long after he’s died, much like an author, painter or actor.

When something like this happens, we can’t help but wonder when our day will come, what we’ll be doing and who we’ll be with when we leave this earth. Dwelling on the unknown is like stopping on a treadmill, the world keeps flashing by and eventually you’ll stumble if you don’t get your feet moving.

I apologize for the dour post, but I just wanted to get this out. This is my healthy way of coping, a way that I wish the gunman had learned. The world we live in can be unforgiving and bleak, but there is goodness to be found, bountiful goodness. I use this tragedy as a catalyst to live my life to the fullest and stop being afraid of rejection, of setbacks, of bad news. It’s gonna come, and it’s gonna come heavier if I allow my creative muscles to atrophy.

Keep writing, keep living, keep going. 

Now I feel the need to listen to some uplifting music. What are some of your go-to songs when you’re feeling low?

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